


The Spaceship

by Bolt_DMC



Series: The Bolt Chronicles [20]
Category: Bolt (2008)
Genre: Aliens, Dementia, F/M, Humor, Light Angst, Movie Reference, Music, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Sad, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:02:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24655015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bolt_DMC/pseuds/Bolt_DMC
Summary: Rhino is by now a very old hamster at just shy of five years of age -- and sorry to say, he hasn't aged all that gracefully. He goes out with a bang, though, meeting some out-of-this-world visitors who take him on one final adventure. Meanwhile, Bolt and Mittens adjust to their friend's less-than-ideal state and ponder the joys of innuendo. Primary cultural references include the "Twilight Zone" episode "Hocus-Pocus and Frisby" and the television show "The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends"; the movies "Lilo and Stitch," "Cactus Flower," "The Wizard of Oz," "Babe," and "The Day the Earth Stood Still"; the comic strip "Smokey Stover"; and songs by The Cramps, The Jazz Butcher, The Byrds, David Bowie, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and Elton John.
Relationships: Bolt/Mittens (Disney: Bolt)
Series: The Bolt Chronicles [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041639
Comments: 13
Kudos: 11





	The Spaceship

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline December 2011
> 
> For my cousins B. (in memoriam) and M.

1.

Mittens was in quite the state. She had been listening to the gleefully suggestive album “A Date with Elvis” by The Cramps, and its raunchy songs such as “(Hot Pool of) Womanneed,” “How Far Can Too Far Go?,” “Cornfed Dames,” and “Can Your Pussy Do the Dog?” had left the cat feeling randier than a troupe of bonobo chimps.

“Where’s my hunka hunka burnin’ dog?” she yowled as she exuberantly exited the study. “He’s gonna stop whatever inessential tomfoolery he’s up to and take care of his woman -- and I mean pronto!”

The cat found Bolt riveted to the television set. He and Penny were watching “Lilo and Stitch,” and in honor of this Elvis-saturated film were both scarfing down one of The King’s favorite noshes, a griddled peanut butter, bacon, and banana sandwich. Mittens scampered over to the pooch and vigorously tugged at his ear.

“Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!” whimpered the little shepherd, utterly unable to speak through a mouth sticky with peanut butter.

“Aw c’mon, you big fussbudget!” scolded the cat. “Quit complaining. Your foxy mama’s gotta have some hot puppy lovin’, and right this minute. You’re just the dog I was looking for, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Bolt raised his eyebrows and tilted his head with interest. “Mmmmph?” he groaned.

“Yeah, you heard right,” said Mittens suggestively. “I’m gonna make this a night you’ll never forget. But if you want me, you gotta tear yourself away from the boob tube, posthaste. Shouldn’t be too tough, though -- I’m pretty sure you’ve already seen that movie a couple dozen times before. And I bet you’ll find me a whoooole lot more interesting than some little four-armed alien. Let’s go, Smokey Stover. I’ve got a raging inferno in my haunches that needs to be doused. You got your firehose ready to roll?”

The shepherd’s eyes widened with excitement. “Mm-hm! Mm-hm! Mm-hm!” he mumbled enthusiastically as he chased the scampering feline into the study.

2.

Quite some time later, Bolt keeled over on his back, fully sated and panting heavily. “Whoo!” he said with a satisfied exhale (their doings had been sufficiently steamy that the peanut butter gluing his mouth shut had long ago melted away, like a kid’s dropped slushie on a scorching hot July sidewalk). “You really outdid yourself that time. Don’t think I’ve ever experienced that level of intensity from you before.”

Mittens lay on her side facing the dog and grinned. “Speak for yourself, Mr. Half-a-Dozen,” she purred. “That ought to keep the home fires damped down for at least a week!”

“Hoo-wee! Looks like I’m gonna be walking funny for at least the next couple days, I think,” chuckled the little shepherd. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Didn’t know I had it in me. Two times for each… ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. I was there, remember?” giggled the cat. “And my memory’s as sharp as a barracuda’s smile. Looks like I gave a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Bad kitty’ tonight, didn’t I?”

The pooch broke into a mischievous smirk. “Boy, I guess.” He paused, wrinkling his brow in thought. “So, what brought that on anyway? Whatever it was, I hope it happens more often.”

“Eh -- just listened to some music that really got me hot for poochie,” said Mittens. “I was taking in some vintage Cramps, and brother, did that ever heat my G-spot to the boiling point. Gotta say, there’s nothing better than a little innuendo now and then.”

Bolt shifted position and pondered. “Innuendo… Innuendo… ” he intoned searchingly. At first, the shepherd seemed confused, but then a broad smile crossed his muzzle. “Ohhhh, now I understand. Didn’t know what to call it, 'cause we don’t do that very often. But now that I think about it, I guess it makes perfect sense.”

It was now the cat’s turn to look perplexed. “Uh no, Bolt. I don’t think that’s what that word… ” She then stopped and began to laugh heartily, placing a paw on his chest.

“What’s so funny?” asked the dog, now thoroughly bewildered. “Did I say something dumb again?”

Mittens shook her head. “Actually -- that’s EXACTLY what it’s called, my sweet little puddinhead.”

“Or at least,” she thought, “That’s what it should be called, anyway.”

An anxious look slowly crept over Bolt’s face. “Y’know, we were pretty noisy just now. Think anybody heard us?”

“Nah -- don’t worry about it,” the cat reassured him. “Penny’s mom went to bed early, and I’m sure Penny’s headed up to the computer in her room. Though I don’t know where Rhino is. Wasn’t he watching that movie with you guys?”

The pooch shook his head. “No, no. He wasn’t with us. Of course these days, he could be anywhere. You know how he’s been lately.”

Mittens wandered over to the CD player, popped in a disc, and pushed the start button. A mixed collection of tunes that Penny had recorded for a Martian-themed Halloween party a couple months ago began to play, mostly consisting of pop songs about space travel, flying saucers, and aliens: “Mr. Spaceman,” “C.T.A.-102,” and “Mr. Tambourine Man” by the Byrds; “Space Oddity” and “Starman” by David Bowie; “It Came Out Of the Sky” by Creedence Clearwater Revival; “Rocket Man” by Elton John; and “Big Bad Thing” by the Jazz Butcher.

“Yeah, I do, sorry to say,” said the cat sadly while snuggling next to the little shepherd. “He’s been saying the wildest things, too. Insisting he was the one who invented the telephone, the microscope, and the Internet, and gave the Kellogg brothers the idea for corn flakes.”

Bolt sighed. “Or that he’s a military genius who studied strategy with George Patton and Alexander the Great. That he personally marched an army of elephants across the Alps to take Rome, and would have succeeded if that dastardly traitor Benedict Arnold hadn’t sabotaged him. The only general he hasn’t claimed to be is Napoleon.”

“Ironic, isn’t it,” said Mittens with a wry frown. “Lately, he’s been saying he was the trusted advisor to every British Prime Minister from Winston Churchill to Margaret Thatcher. Not to mention that he wrote all the songs credited to Lennon and McCartney, and painted ‘The Last Supper’.”

“But you know the worst part?” whined the little shepherd. “Those darned dog whistles. Urgh -- I can’t stand them!”

The cat frowned. “I’ll bet. Where the heck did they all come from, anyway?”

“Some pet supply company sent hundreds of the stupid things to Penny, trying to get her and me to endorse them.” Bolt shook his head irritably. “They’re really shrill, too -- make my ears ring every time Rhino blows into one. They always go in the garbage when I find them, but he must have stashed at least half the darned things in hiding places all over the house. Someday, I’ll track them down and get rid of them all -- and boy, that day can’t come soon enough for me.”

3.

The pair’s alone-time was unceremoniously interrupted by repeated thumps on the door to the den. The last of these pushed it open, and Rhino (encased in his plastic sphere) whirled distractedly into the room. He blew lustily on a small dog whistle, causing the little shepherd to grab his ears in pain.

“All right -- all right -- who did it? Who did such a dastardly deed? Goldie will hear of this!” the hamster shouted.

Bolt and Mittens glanced knowingly at each other. “Goldie again,” groaned the shepherd. “Where’d he come up with that one, anyway?”

“Beats me,” said the cat under her breath. “He’s been spouting that name ever since we saw the movie ‘Cactus Flower’. Y’know, the one Goldie Hawn won an Oscar for? Probably comes from that.”

The dog nodded, then turned his attention to Rhino. “Um, what seems to be the problem there, little guy?” he asked. Bolt was sure he could guess the answer pretty easily, though.

“My kibble, as if you didn’t know!” said Rhino with emphasis. “Somebody who shall remain nameless has been trying to poison me again, haven’t they? I can see the telltale sheen of strychnine all over it. That evil, shining glint of toxin is unmistakable. But I’m too smart to fall for it! That Nobel Prize in chemistry I won sure comes in handy sometimes.”

This was perhaps the tenth time in the last few weeks the little rodent had thought someone was tampering with his food. Rhino had been showing signs of aging the past couple months -- thinning hair, declining weight, grayness around his muzzle, stiffness in his joints -- but the last month had seen bizarre episodes of dementia. Mittens had joked that it was sometimes hard to tell unhinged Rhino from normal Rhino (the hamster had always demonstrated a curious mix of sagacity and eccentricity) and she had a valid point. Lately however, his behavior had descended into full-blown nonsense at times, often laced with anger or paranoia.

“Rhino, how dare you?” gasped the shepherd. “I’m your television hero, somebody you’ve always looked up to. How could you even imagine I’d do something so terrible?”

The cat patted Bolt on the shoulder. “Easy, easy there, Cujo. Let me handle this.” She turned to the hamster and shook her head sadly.

“Don’t worry. Don’t worry little fella. It’s all right. It’s… all right,” she said soothingly. “We all care about you, remember? You’re our tiny little pal, our best buddy, and we wouldn’t hurt you for all the ice in Canada.”

The little rodent grimaced. “But -- but I saw it with my own eyes. I know what kibble’s supposed to look like and… ”

Mittens popped open Rhino’s plastic ball, carefully lifting him out and hugging him to her chest. “Shh -- shh -- shh -- shh,” she shushed, stroking him reassuringly on the back. “Don’t worry, little friend, don’t worry. We love you -- love you more than anything in the world, and there’s no way we’d ever do something so terrible. You know that, right?”

“But… ” the hamster tried again. “But -- but I… ”

“Shhhhhh. Calm down. Calm down. It’s okay. It’s okay,” said the cat in a singsong voice as she continued to pet Rhino serenely.

“Uh, I… I guess so,” grumbled the little rodent, settling down noticeably. “You’re sure now… ”

“Absitively, posolutely. Now, don’t worry -- everything’ll be just fine. You know we’ve got your back, little guy,” whispered Mittens. “Tell you what -- let me take you into the living room. I’m pretty sure there’s a ‘Bolt’ marathon on the Vintage TV Station that’s riiiiight up your alley. C’mon, let’s go see, okay?”

Rhino seemed noticeably calmer now. “Sure. Sure. That sounds… that sounds like a lot of fun.” He hopped back into his plastic ball and followed the cat out of the room.

4.

It was now 11 PM, and not a creature was stirring, except for one rodent. Rhino was feeling full of energy after switching from the Vintage TV Channel’s comprehensive “Bolt” marathon to take in a showing of the classic film “The Wizard of Oz.” The pixilated hamster had spent the last 15 minutes trundling through the house in his plastic ball, merrily bumping into the furniture and having chittering discussions with figments of his imagination.

A pulsating blue light, flickering methodically in and out of the living room picture window, soon caught his attention and fully overrode all other distractions. Rhino energetically rolled out the doggy door, bounced down the porch steps, and stopped short upon reaching the front walk. His eyes narrowed as he pressed his paws onto the inside of his ball. “That is totally unrealistic,” he said, though his voice betrayed a sense of awe beneath its veneer of dismissal.

Hovering about sixty feet above the ample side yard was a large flying saucer. It gleamed with an eerie silver glow, studded with twinkling azure lights and emitting a quiet thrumming noise. Rhino had seen plenty of spaceships on television before, but nothing remotely like this.

The hamster’s curiosity eventually got the better of him, however, and he began to giggle. “Aw, who am I kidding? No way I’m gonna resist this.” He rolled directly below the center of the craft, holding his arms out and chattering furiously. “Come, my friends from another world -- take me for a trip upon your magic swirling ship! Beam me aboard and let me see delights from a different dimension!” As if in response to his request, a bright yellow tractor beam slowly descended from a trapdoor, lifting the sphere-ensconced rodent into the saucer’s belly.

Rhino, by now relatively lucid, took in his new surroundings. Humming consoles winked at him from every angle, though a few of them had displays that crackled and flickered to the sound of sporadic external shorts. Seats perched on short poles dotted the floor on either side, some of them patched with what looked suspiciously like duct tape. The green shag-carpeted floor sported patches of wear scattered among its slightly faded verdant warmth. Before the hamster, two odd-looking beings eyed him quizzically. About five feet tall, they had flat black noses plastered onto short snouts, droopy black ears, and wide goggly eyes that appeared to be simultaneously perplexed and in truth a bit simple-minded. Both wore tight lavender jumpsuits, threadbare bunny slippers, and tarnished copper-colored helmets topped with what appeared to be purple scrub brushes.

The hamster figured he should be the first to speak, but struggled to know what to say. Remembering finally what the alien in the song “Big Bad Thing” had uttered, he lustily called out “Vhat you vhant? Vhat you vhant?” The two creatures stared at each other in sheer bewilderment and muttered covertly, following which the one on the right began frantically pushing buttons on the machine before him. Blaring from the speakers in front of Rhino came the phrase, “Pozdrav, zemaljska biće! Nemojte se uznemiriti. Dulazimo u miru!”

It was now the little rodent’s turn to look puzzled. He spoke again, this time doing an approximation of the space traveler’s backwards chipmunk speech from the song “C.T.A.-102.” All this did, however, was produce near-panicked expressions from the beings in front of him. After several more nervous fumbles with buttons, the phrase “Pagbati, taong tao! Wag kang ma alarma. Pumunta kami nang may intensyong kapayapaan,” rolled forth from the speakers.

“Wait, what? What’re you trying to say?” groaned Rhino, who placed his paws to the side of his head in confusion. “I don’t understand you in the slightest! Baa ram ewe! Klaatu barada nikto! What does it take to get through to you guys?”

The alien to the left mumbled to his colleague, who furiously tapped more buttons, studied the screen in front of him, and repeated the procedure yet again. The crackling speaker finally issued another message: “Greetings, Earth person! Do not be alarmed. We come in peace.”

The hamster giggled. “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?” He rolled forward in his plastic ball, standing only a couple of feet from the machine separating him from his hosts. 

The interstellar visitors broke into a smile as they flipped levers on collars wrapped around their necks. “Oh -- sorry about that. We thought you were speaking Croatian or Filipino at first,” said the button-pushing being. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gidney, and it is a veritable honor to make your appurtenance.”

Gidney’s colleague crossed his arms across his chest, shook his head, and frowned. “I think your translating collar is on the fritz again. Why didn’t you take it for a tune-up to Gazoo’s Gizmos before we left? What will our estranged guest think?”

His partner wagged a finger at the alien to his side. “Physician, squeal thyself!” he admonished. “You know, Cloyd, you really should have bought these infernal contraptions at a more reputable place than Mall Mart. These came right out of the barking bin near the register, didn’t they?”

The look on Cloyd’s face turned from critical to sheepish in a matter of seconds. “But… but… we had to buy extra duct tape for repairs! We had to economize someplace along the lion.”

“Budget cuts! Budget cuts!” moaned Gidney peevishly. “That’s all our Beerless Leader says to us anymore.”

“Not in front of the G-E-N-Y-U-S,” whispered Cloyd. “We’ll make a terrible first compression on our guest of honor!”

Rhino gawked in puzzlement at the two exotic beings. “Guest of honor? Me? I don’t follow. What’s so dog-darned special about little old me?”

A smile crept across Gidney’s face, the condescending sort one might give to a befuddled toddler. “Oh, come now -- don’t be modest. We’ve been studying you closely for the last month or so, and your bodacious intelligence has made itself plainly revenant to us.”

“Oh yes, most defiantly!” said Cloyd in earnest. “Don’t deny it. You’re the one who invented the steam engine, perfected the electric lightbulb, and created concepts resulting in radio and television.”

It was Gidney’s turn to enthusiastically chime in. “And you’ve been the Most Exalted Advisor on monetary policy, military strategy, and scientific knowledge to the last five Benighted States presidents. So many advances that have made comfortable modern existence possible on your planet have rolled from the pernicious depths of your advanced brain.”

“Yes indeedy,” interrupted Cloyd. “You gave Henry Ford the idea for the modern assembly line, laid out the strategy that allowed Sitting Bull to defeat Custer at the Babble of Little Big Horn, and told Marco Polo to ‘Head East, young man’ so he could discover spaghetti and firecrackers.”

The hamster scratched an ear. “Huh,” he thought. “Bolt and Mittens said I’ve been acting pretty strange lately. If I said all that, they’re probably right.”

“You see,” said Gidney with gravity in his voice. “Our society has been stagnating for the last one hundred glorn or so. We really need to find the smartest, most talented creature on your planet and bring them back to the Beerless Leader. Let us tap into that profligate intelligence of yours, helping to return our world to its foremost standing in the galaxy. We need an astute, ineffectual brainiac like your exalted self to head our Brain Trust Committee.”

Rhino shook his head. “Sorry guys, but my reputation as a world savior would seem to be greatly exaggerated. Besides, I have to get back to Goldie soon. I’m afraid coming with you to your home planet is out of the question.”

The two aliens looked at each other in conspiratorial fashion. “We will make it well worth your while,” said Cloyd, a smirk crossing his face that betrayed the fact that he was lying. “The Beerless Leader is prepared to pay you a handsome celery for your trouble. You will be put up in the most salacious of digs, eat your fill of gourmand food, and schlep down as much wine as you can hold.”

“And,” offered Gidney with a conspiratorial wink and head tilt, “You will be provided with a harem’s worth of doting… er… what’s the word for that in your language? Tomatoes? Yeah, tomatoes, that’s it. A harem’s worth of such delicacies will be provided free of charge. Heck, you’ll be buried up to your ears in ketchup anytime you want. Guaranteed.”

“I suppose that might be appealing if I were a hot dog,” thought the hamster, his mouth wrinkling into a wry frown as he looked disapprovingly at the dilapidated spacecraft’s interior. “No -- no,” he said finally. “I’m afraid that just won’t do.”

“Listen, my fuzzy little friend,” growled Cloyd with irritation. “You don’t really have a choice here. We have been tasked by the Beerless Leader to bring back a genius, and we’re not going against the wishes of our grand exalted Pooh-Bear!”

“Cloyd shrieks the truth,” added Gidney. “If we return from our request empty-handed, it will surely mean demotion in rank and possible short-term incarceration in the pound for us. Maybe even loss of face as a worst-case lothario.”

Rhino looked puzzled. “Loss of face? So what’s the big deal about a little embarrassment?”

“No, you don’t understand,” groaned Cloyd shaking his head. “They will take a ray gun and zap our faces clean off. It takes at least half a glorn to grow one back, and it’s never as ravishing as before.”

“Plus they could dock our pension. I’m only two years from retirement, and I distend to collect my service pension in full,” said Gidney.

The sphere-enclosed rodent stroked his chubby chin in thought. “Hmmm,” he finally chittered. “Does it really matter who comes back with you? I mean, was it clearly determined that it’s me you have to kidnap?”

“I think we should stick to the plan,” said Cloyd emphatically.

“If it doesn’t want to return with us, we only need its brain,” offered Gidney in a stage whisper. “Wait, don’t transmute that last part!” he added quickly, giving his collar a futile slap.

The little rodent’s whiskers shot straight out in alarm at that accidental reveal, and he began looking around quickly for options. It was then that Rhino noticed the small whistle at his feet. “Huh,” he thought. “Why not? They look like two-legged dogs anyway.” As it turned out, the hamster’s guess was accurate -- when he blew the whistle, the two aliens bellowed and covered their ears.

“Aaugh! What is that?” howled Gidney. “It hurts my ears so much!”

His companion shrieked. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! I can’t bear the pain! I’ve never heard anything that awful!”

A grin crossed Rhino’s face. That had gone far better than expected. “Yeah, well, if you don’t let me go, I’ll just keep tooting this thing all the way back to your home planet. And if you think I’m kidding, just try me.”

After a hurried consultation, the two extraterrestrials faced the hamster, twiddling fingers in their ears in an attempt to stop the lingering tinnitus. “Well -- all right,” grumbled Cloyd. “But we can’t go home dumpty-handed. Got any ideas for a substitute genius for us?”

The little rodent placed his paws flat together and giggled. “There’s this movie called ‘The Wizard of Oz’ that we have on earth. It’s a surprisingly accurate film about life on this planet, too. And in that film, the smartest character of all is the scarecrow. If it’s brains you want, a scarecrow is your man… er… whatever you call him, anyway. Every real-life example inherited that character’s enormous brain power. Plus, you’re in luck -- there are tons of great specimens just hanging around sleeping in the fields surrounding the area where we are now. Just beam any of them up, bring them back to your planet, and re-animate them. They don’t eat anything or require harem companions, so they’ll fit right in with your budget. You won’t even have to pay them anything. Scarecrows are notably generous with their time and knowledge.”

“Well then -- looks like it’s all settled,” snickered Gidney. “I never could desist a bargain. I’m sure the Beerless Leader will be pleased, too. Sounds perfect!”

“How can we possibly repay you, oh sage one?” Cloyd asked. “Name it, and if we can afford your bequest, it’ll be granted.”

Rhino chuckled. “I think I’ve got an idea that won’t break your budget.”

After a brief stop in a neighboring field to beam aboard an especially promising-looking scarecrow (as well as leaving a perfectly symmetric crop circle calling card behind), Cloyd picked up the little rodent and placed him at the front edge of the spaceship’s dashboard. Rhino stood transfixed as the flying saucer circled the moon and the earth twice each, providing a stunning view of the two heavenly bodies from an ideal vantage point. Snow-capped mountains, heaving oceans, glittering deserts, waving grasslands, yawning craters, stony lunar plains -- the wonders of the world and its satellite were Rhino’s to savor and enjoy.

5.

The spacecraft left Rhino in the side yard at about 2 AM and swiftly disappeared. The hamster rolled around in the grass aimlessly while steaming his plastic ball up in the chilly night air, thereby making it all the harder for him to see where he was headed. Eventually, he reached the front porch steps. Unable to tell where he was, the little rodent continued to bang into the bottom step, producing an audible thumping sound as he went.

“You hear that?” asked Bolt as he frowned and raised a paw quizzically. He switched the TV off and cocked his head, listening intently.

Mittens nodded. “Huh. Now that you mention it, sounds like there’s someone outside trying to get up the steps. Doing a less than bang-up job with it, too, I’d guess.”

The two yawning pets, having gotten up for a litter box and fire hydrant break, had had trouble getting back to sleep and were taking in the “Twilight Zone” episode “Hocus-Pocus and Frisby.” With their curiosity piqued, however, they headed out the doggy door to investigate.

A worried look crossed the shepherd’s face. “Rhino? What’re you doing? How did you get out here, anyway?” He looked anxiously at Mittens and said, “C’mon -- let’s get him inside before he catches his death of cold.”

Once back in the house, the dog and cat pushed the sphere-encased hamster next to a radiator in the living room. “So,” Mittens quipped with a crooked grin. “You decided it would be a peachy night for a leisurely sashay?”

Rhino giggled excitedly, beside himself with happiness. “Boy, you don’t know the half of it. I just had the most amazing experience -- truly to die for! See, I was out in the yard when this spaceship just sucked me up into its stomach. There were two aliens inside who -- well, to tell the truth, they kinda looked like you, Bolt -- and they tried to kidnap me. They said they wanted to take me back to their home planet and have me be an Imperial Advisor or… or something. But I convinced them to take a scarecrow back with them instead, and I… ”

By now, the little rodent’s two friends were exchanging glances, rolling their eyes, and grinning patronizingly. Rhino’s face fell.

“You… you don’t believe me, do you? It’s the dog’s honest truth, I swear. They even took me on two full orbits to see the earth and the moon from space.” The hamster began to get angry. “Why don’t you believe me? I couldn’t make up something this crazy if I tried!”

Mittens popped open the little rodent’s plastic ball and held him affectionately in her paws. “No, it’s… it’s okay. It’s okay, little pal. Don’t worry about it -- we believe you.”

“Honest!” confirmed the pooch while raising a paw. “If you say it happened, then it happened. No way I would ever doubt a word of what you say.”

The wave of indignation quickly faded from Rhino’s face as first Mittens and then Bolt gave him a warm, caring hug. “Know what?” said the cat finally. “Unless I miss my guess, that ‘Bolt’ TV show marathon is running all night. Bet you’d like to watch it one more time, wouldn’t ya?”

The dog smiled warmly. “Here -- let’s get you set up right so you can see it in perfect comfort. It’s the least I can do for my biggest fan.” With that, Rhino’s two friends placed the hamster in his ball, set him in front of the remote, and turned the set on.

“Time for us to head back to bed, little guy,” grinned Mittens wistfully. “You enjoy the show, okay?”

“Yeah,” Bolt yawned. “See you in the morning. Nighty-night.”

The little rodent smiled warmly. “Bolt… Mittens… Thanks. Thanks for everything. Love you, guys -- you’re the best.”

6.

Left alone on the couch, Rhino sighed heavily. On the television screen, Bolt and Penny had just encountered a huge hoard of Dr. Calico’s henchmen in tanks, armored cars, and helicopters out by the airport. “Bolt -- speak,” the girl said with quiet emphasis. The ensuing Superbark was one of the little shepherd’s most cataclysmic utterances.

The hamster closed his eyes and smiled, quietly muttering, “Goldie… Goldie… My work is done here, and I’ll be seeing you very soon now. I’m ready. Goldie… Goldie… I can’t wait to see you again. Goldie… Goldie… ” Rhino slowly rolled onto his back, closed his eyes, and lay still, murmuring, “Goldie… Goldie… ”


End file.
